Just a Little TLC
by wanderlustlights
Summary: PostWar. Harry dances in the rain and ends up getting a cold. Draco decides he doesn’t really mind a Sick!Harry, and in fact finds his sniffles and sneezes endearing and cute. He decides he needs a little TLC. Draco/Harry Bottom!Harry


**Just a Little TLC **by Janiem.

**Summary: **PostWar. Harry dances in the rain and ends up getting a cold. Draco decides he doesn't really mind a Sick!Harry, and in fact finds his sniffles and sneezes endearing and cute. He decides he needs a little TLC. Harry/Draco SLASH! XD

**Pairing: **Harry/Draco, of course. :

**Rating: **M, for language and pure smut…!! XD

**Timing:** After the war, but disregards HBP and DH. My own war happened for the HP cast of characters, and so Dumbledore and Snape and everyone else who died in the JKR world of HP is still alive, thank god. In My Opinion, she definitely killed off too many (good) characters.

**A/N: **So actually I have a cold right now. I was coming back from class the other day (I'm in college right now, in case you haven't heard, lol) and was thinking of new ideas for a one-shot story, and thought up this little thingy. I'd been coughing and sneezing and thought that it would be cool if Harry was dancing in the rain (for some strange reason or another) and then someone catches him and - oh! - who better than the Slytherin Prince himself, who has been infatuated with him for years. Tee hee hee… . Enjoy! (-- by the way, wrote this back in, like, November or something when I first came up with the idea. XD LOL.)

**DISCLAIMER:** I am not JK Rowling. Read on, bitches.

--

He was free.

The Dark Lord, aka Voldemort, aka SnakeFace, aka Voldy the Moldy, was now defeated by the _one_, the _only_… Harry Pootteerrrr…!

Who was now, incidentally, dancing around in the rain, outside on the grounds of Hogwarts, pretending to be an Indian.

And all because he was so damn happy.

I mean, wouldn't _you_ be too, if you had just killed the man-thing who had made your entire life a living _hell_ by murdering your parents?!

Yes, you would.

So here he was, the Boy Who Lived, dancing around in the pouring rain.

It was a crazy dance, kind of the spastic kind, and yet Harry could really care less _who_ saw him.

He was a free bird now, a new man, and nothing - nothing, nothing, NOTHING - could stop him now, he wasn't going to 'quit while he was ahead,' as the Muggles liked to put it. Nope, nu uh was he going to do that.

"Potter, _what_ do you think you're doing out here?" he heard a voice shout at him. "You're going to get yourself sick, you are aware of that, yes?" The voice was getting closer.

Harry turned around, only to come face to face with a certain blond Slytherin by the name of Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted pleasantly, nodding before going back to his rain dance.

Malfoy scrunched his eyebrows, scrutinizing the brunet. "You _are_ aware that you're going to catch a cold, right? You can't be _that_ daft…"

Harry turned around abruptly. "You know, if you aren't going to join me then you might as well leave. Personally I really could care less what you do, but just don't stand there like a statue."

"What're you doing _any_ways?!" Malfoy asked.

"Dancing," Harry said simply, in between a twirl.

Malfoy raised a pale eyebrow. "You call that _dancing_?!" he said incredulously. "That's… that's… _atrocious_!" he exclaimed. "You're seventeen years old, Potter, not a five year-old, you should be able to dance better than _that_!"

"Well unlike _you_, Malfoy, I wasn't brought up in a home where they valued dancing and etiquette lessons above everything else, as you so obviously were."

"Well obviously," Malfoy agreed pompously, still staring at Harry's so-called 'atrocious' dancing.

Harry grinned widely and went back to his 'dancing,' chanting now and then.

It went on for ten more minutes, with Malfoy just standing in the rain, watching the boy.

"Potter, watch ou-!" Malfoy's voice faltered slightly, as Harry steered himself right into a tree with his eyes closed, and ultimately knocking himself out.

Malfoy sighed, berating himself for ever coming out there in the first place, and went to pick up Harry's slightly slender body to bring him into the castle.

--

"I still don't see how I managed to get sick and _you_ didn't. I fail to see how _that_ happened." Harry sniffled from the bed he was laying in.

"Mmm, perhaps because I have a very healthy immune system? And besides, I wasn't out there _nearly_ as long as you were…? How long were you out there before I came, anyway?" Malfoy wondered. You could still hear the _pitter-patter _of rain on the window.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. An hour, maybe two?"

Malfoy slapped him on the arm. "What _for_?!" he bellowed.

Harry shrugged again. "Dunno," he repeated, much to Malfoy's annoyance. "Wanted to? Celebrating?" he said, feigning innocence.

"Well it was idiotic, for whatever reason it was, you arse. Now look where all your supposed 'common sense' landed you! You're sick, and I'm stuck nursing you back to health," he grumbled.

Harry shot up in bed, a little too quickly I might add, if the increase of his headache was anything to go by. He lay back down, gently this time.

"What?! _You?!_ Why isn't _Pomfrey_, or Ron or someone helping me get better?! Why you?!"

"I was the one who brought you back here, passed out and on the verge of acquiring pneumonia. So she insisted that _I _help you instead. You're lucky you only have a cold, it could have been much worse."

Harry groaned, deep in his sore throat, which sent him on a coughing fit.

Malfoy watched on, wincing as Harry's coughs got louder and worse before he finally gave up on trying to cough up whatever it was that was stuck in his throat, and moaning before settling his head back on the pillow.

"What hurts?" Malfoy asked, in a way that could only be described as sympathetic and - _holy hell_, was that… - caring?

Harry pointed to his forehead and throat, eyes still clenched shut in an attempt to block out the pain.

"My nose is all stuffy, too," he pouted, _definitely_ sounding clogged.

Malfoy nodded. "Just as I thought. I'll be right back, don't move." And then he got up from the bed to exit the room.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but nodded anyways.

Half an hour later Malfoy came back into the room with a bowl on a tray, among other things. There was steaming hot soup, cough syrup, and medicine to help get rid of Harry's pounding headache he had been tortured with for the past two and a half hours.

Harry raised an eyebrow and spoke, though his throat hurt to do so. "You cook?" he asked, eyeing the soup somewhat skeptically.

Malfoy shrugged and sat down in the chair next to Harry's bed. "House elves can't make _everything_ perfect, you know, Potter."

Well _Harry_ certainly hadn't thought that. Dobby had always made all his favorite foods, and _yes_, perfectly.

Harry took the bowl of soup from Malfoy, somewhat hesitantly, and began eating it, finding it, _oh yes_, very, very good…

"Holy _hell_, Malfoy," Harry exclaimed.

"What, too hot?"

Harry shook his head mutely. "No… It's… well, _perfect_, actually. I didn't know you were such a fantastic cook."

Malfoy shrugged. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Potter."

"And this apparently just so happens to be one of them."

Malfoy nodded. "Yes, this just so happens to be one of them." You could see just the smallest, _tiniest_ smile on his face, hidden right beneath the Malfoy Mask.

They sat in silence for the next few moments before Harry spoke again, sounding very, _very_ congested. Ew.

"So what else don't I know about you then, Malfoy?"

Malfoy had more or less been staring off into space while Harry ate his soup. "Hmm?"

He obviously hadn't heard him.

"I _said_, Malfoy, what else don't I know about you?"

"A lot, Potter, let's leave it at that."

"No."

"What?"

"No. I'm _not_ going to just leave it at that. I want to get to know you better."

"Why?" Malfoy asked, obviously _very_ surprised.

"Because I don't really know that much about you, I've noticed."

"But why _now_?" Merlin, he was stubborn.

"Because we have time with basically nothing to do, since I'm sick in bed and Pomfrey asked you to take care of me. It'll take some time, Malfoy." Harry was being completely reasonable, while Malfoy was being, well… _Malfoy_. Stubborn and stuck-up.

Finally, the blond huffed and sat back in his chair, resigned. "Fine."

Harry beamed and squeaked out a response in his wavering voice. "Great. So tell me about yourself then, Malfoy."

Malfoy stared at him for a few minutes - looking _extremely_ like he wasn't wanting to do this but knew Potter wouldn't stop until he answered his questions - before rolling his eyes and responding. "Like what?"

"Favorite colors," Harry suggested.

"Oh _please_, Potter, it's just such an _obvious_ answer! Silver and green, duh."

Harry chose to ignore the 'how-dumb-are-you-_really_?!' look Malfoy was giving him and ploughed on. "Middle name?"

"Lucius."

Harry's brows knit together. "Your middle name is your father's first name??"

"Yes. What of it?" Malfoy had a slightly affronted tone to his voice.

Harry shook his head, dispelling of all the mixed shock and amusement that was clouding him. "Nothing," he said lightly. "Uhm, next question, yes? Birthday?"

"June fifth. But _honestly_, Potter, I _highly_ doubt that me spouting off facts to you is going to help you in your quest to get to know me better. It just doesn't work like that."

"Then how _does_ it work, _Malfoy_?"

They stared each other down for a few moments of tense silence before Malfoy set his jaw in a hard line.

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Anything."

"You're going to need to be a bit more specific than that, Potter."

"Anything you _want_ to tell me, Malfoy." Harry snuggled closer into his bed of the Gryffindor boys' dorm room, where - with the reluctant assistance of the Gryffindorks - Malfoy had brought him while he was still passed out. He snuggled into his pillows further, almost as though he was a child about to hear a bedtime story.

"What do you do in your spare time?" Harry asked, sort of in a way to get him back into the question-answering mood.

"What I do in my spare time?! Oh _honestly_, Potter, you should really know this already," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "It's all Slytherin parties, boys, and Quidditch for me," he said, with a growing smile.

Harry looked slightly flabbergasted. "You're gay?" he spluttered, and promptly fell into a coughing fit, causing Draco to look at him in haughty disgust.

"You mean you never knew? Don't tell me you're really that thick? Even Crabbe and Goyle noticed, and Merlin knows they aren't exactly the brightest crayons in the box…"

Harry blushed. "I just never guessed…"

"Oh Merlin, I thought _everybody_ knew. And _how_ on earth did you never guess?!"

"I never thought it was exactly _obvious_, is all…" Oh how Harry Potter was so naïve…

"And _how_, pray tell, Potter, has it _not_ been obvious that I am a cock-sucking, ass-fucking, flaming _pouf_?!"

Harry blushed furiously at this. "I-I don't know…" he said in a small voice, cheeks crimson.

"Well you'd think it would be _obvious_ by now. I gel my hair, Potter. I take an hour and a half to get ready in the morning, at _least_ an hour more than the rest of my roommates, and I am basically a man whore." Malfoy scrunched his eyebrows. "_How_ has this not been obvious to you?"

There was silence for a few moments. "It looks better without it…" Harry admitted shyly, ducking his head to hide his still brightly flushed face.

"Excuse me?" It wasn't a snappish voice, but merely expressing how confused he really was by the Gryffindor's out-of-the-blue comment.

"Your hair," Harry clarified. "It looks better without all the gel, when you just have it free for once."

Malfoy blinked. "Oh. Well… thanks, then, I guess," he said, the words coming off his tongue somewhat awkwardly, since he was still surprised by what Harry had said.

Harry blushed again and ducked his head slightly, toying with the bottle of cough syrup that was _supposed_ to taste like cherry but just ended up making you even more disgusted than anything else.

Then Malfoy seemed to realize something. "Wait, when have you ever seen it down?"

Harry looked back up into Malfoy's clear grey eyes, and shrugged, cheeks still tinged pink. "You were really tired one day after Quidditch practice, and didn't feel like doing your hair after you took your shower. You looked around the corridors, to make sure no one would see your in your 'disheveled state,' when actually you didn't see me coming out after you from yet another detention with Snape." Harry seemed to blush even more at this, and gave Malfoy a nervous, close-mouthed smile.

Malfoy looked shocked. "You… you mean you were actually _there_? I didn't think anyone saw that… And what would you know, it ends up being the one guy I'm in love with," he added as an afterthought in a faint whisper.

"W-what was that?" Harry asked, blinking in shock and staring at the blond Slytherin.

Malfoy froze. "Uhm… I _really _didn't just say that out loud just now… did I?" He started breathing hard.

Harry nodded, no longer able to speak coherently, and sat up in bed slowly, continuing to stare at Malfoy.

"No. No, I didn't!" he yelled, trying to convince himself more than Harry.

"Yes, you did!" Harry shouted back from his place on his bed, pointing an accusing finger at Draco.

"No! I didn't, because if I told you I loved you then you would know, and if you know then… and oh _bugger_, I actually _told you_, didn't I," he cried miserably.

"What d'you mean you _love me_?!" Harry cried, coming out of his shocked state all of a sudden, mouth hanging open.

But Draco, however, wasn't listening to a word he was saying. All the blond could do was continue on his rant of self-degradation.

"I am an IDIOT. Oh _fuck_…! Please, Merlin, just let me die here and now, I can't take this any longer." He started banging his head on the bed frame, moaning out of misery. "Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_," he repeated over and over. "You knoowwww…!" He lifted his head to look at Harry.

"Draco?" he said softly, taking in the now pale, tear-stained, lip-quivering face.

"Whhaatttt?!" he wailed, choking on his sobs.

Harry got a small smile on his face and held open his arms. "Come here."

The Malfoy heir pouted. "No. You'll get me sick." He crossed his arms in front of himself, guarded.

Harry chuckled. "But don't you want to be in the arms of the one you love?" He continued smiling.

"No," Draco snapped, tears still running down his pale features. "Not anymore now that you're mocking me."

"No, I'm not," Harry said softly, schooling his features so that his smile was hidden.

"Yes, you are," Draco grumbled.

"You're acting like a petulant child, you twat. Now come here."

Draco _hated_ being called a child. Defeated, he rolled his eyes and crawled onto the bed and into the arms of a still very sick Harry Potter.

Harry enveloped Draco's waist with his arms and settled his chin on the blond's shoulder. "There. Better?"

"Yeah. It is…" Draco responded after a moment of just settling into the feeling of being in the arms of the one he loved after having waited for so long. He smiled serenely.

"I love you too, Draco," Harry admitted after a few moments. "I always have…" Harry started nuzzling Draco's neck, eyes closed, making Draco tip his head back to allow Harry better access while he began placing scattered kisses to the heated skin.

"Nngh… _Harry…_" Draco mumbled, losing all coherent thoughts, not that _any_ normally came when he was around Harry.

Draco's eyes fluttered open when Harry took his face in his hands, and brought the blond into a searing kiss. It was a gentle one, that quickly became even more heated when Draco responded immediately. Draco leaned down on Harry, pushing him further into the bed and grounding their hips together.

"Sweet sugary mango goodness!" Harry yelled, obviously spouting nonsensical words, as Draco ground their hips together. And _hard_… "Draco!" he screamed in a sore voice, from all the coughing he was doing and the excess phlegm that was clogged in his throat. Ye gods, he certainly hoped this cold would be gone by morning… Or even better, in the next few minutes would be good, too. "Draco? Draco, _please_, will you get on with… w-with the fucking? _Please_? I-I'd very much appreci- Oh thank gods…" Harry gasped, then sighed in bliss as clothes were vanished, and they were lying, naked flesh to naked flesh, and Draco had stuck a magically lubricated finger inside of him. Harry grunted, heart pounding faster as Draco slid a second and third digit in. He gasped again, only a moment later, when Draco slid himself into Harry, satiating them both like never before.

It took only moments for them to come together, their lovemaking a mixture of gasps and moans, hot flesh of bodies sliding against each other as they brought one another to completion. Draco fell onto his stomach on the bed, next to Harry with his face in the pillow.

"Draco?" Harry asked in a hoarse whisper when he'd finally caught his breath.

"Hmm?" Draco questioned sleepily, one eye opening to look over at his bedmate.

"Did Pomfrey _really_ have you come and take care of me?" Harry asked.

Draco's face turned a pale pink shade. "Not really, no - I guess I just thought that this way I could maybe have a chance with you. You would've never given me one before…"

"You know that's not true, Draco," Harry tried to reassure him.

Draco frowned. "It is, Harry, you know that."

Harry floundered, trying to find the words. "Okay, so yes, I probably _wouldn't _have not reacted in the same way as I did today, but I'm sure eventually I would have ended up doing something horrible and completely embarrassing, like jumping you in the corridors or classrooms or something. And then where would we be?"

Draco's lips quirked into a smile as he pulled Harry into his arms, encircling the other boys' waist. "Exactly where we are right now, Harry."

"Yeah, and what makes you think that?" he asked, grinning.

"Because we were meant to be, Harry. That's why."

And neither had felt more happy now than they had in their entire lives.

--

"I thought you said that you had a perfectly healthy immune system…" Harry looked at his newly-acquired boyfriend skeptically as he handed the blond Slytherin a bowl filled with hot soup.

"Yes, well it's all _your_ bloody fault, you wanker," Draco grumbled with a stuffy nose, throat scratchy and sore, as he took the soup from the Gryffindor's hands.

Harry sat down beside him in the bed, smiling despite how terrible his boyfriend of four days was feeling. "Sorry," he said, still smiling and not sounding sorry in the _least_.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Guess I'll just have to give you a little TLC like you gave me," he said, smiling suggestively.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "And what is that, exactly…?" he asked skeptically, noticing the look he was getting from the brunet.

"Tender Loving Care, and in the _exact same fashion _that you gave it to me," he said, smiling at the innuendo and nipping at the Slytherin's ear.

Draco moaned, finally catching on. "Yes I suppose you are…" And with that, he lay down in bed to receive his 'TLC' quotient for the day.

Or maybe only _part_ of his quotient…

They'd just have to wait and see.

--

_Finite!_

--

**A/N:** So I think I've been working on this story for about seven months now. It's definitely been a long time coming, but… I've finally made it through…!! Hope you all liked it, and please, please, _please_ review! XD Tell me what you think, I'd love to know!


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